Brute Weapon
by TruePlainHearts
Summary: Gaby spots Illya's tattoo and the meaning behind it almost shatters her heart to pieces. Plot bunny that was begging to be written to explain Armie Hammer's tattoo in the film.


I saw someone on Tumblr note that they hadn't bothered covering up Armie Hammer's wrist tattoo which says "Hammer" in Russian which still kinda suits his character. That of course gave me this plot bunny that could not be ignored where I reinterpret the family name tattoo into something a little more literal yet existential. Strap in guys, this one got angsty!

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It had been another long and trying mission in Istanbul and they were all glad it was finally finished. The arms dealer was arrested, the cache of deadly grande weapons large enough to outfit a medium sized army was secured, and Gaby, Illya and Napoleon were all due to depart for their next mission in Paris the following day. For now though, they could take the evening to tend to their wounds (well to Illya's since he had insisted on placing himself between a large falling beam and Gaby) and have one night of rest before it all began again.

Gaby and Illya had posed a married couple this time, the black pearl ring he had gave her still firmly in place but now with a matching silver band she still hand't gotten around to taking it off. Napoleon was in his own hotel suite down the hall while Gaby and Illya shared again, just like in Rome. Gaby was already tucked up in bed, nursing a generous nightcap of the finest Russian vodka as she listened to the shower run in the next room.

She was worried about Illya. She had watched as he quickly waved off the paramedics that turned up at the scene in favour of checking on her and Napoleon as well as briefing Waverly the second he arrived. He had moved slower and more deliberately than usual, as though he was diligently masking any involuntary wince or flinch. She was sure nothing was broken, because he may not have been able to move at all, but she knew he was in pain. Despite all his walls and his ever present stoic expression, she saw through all of it. She always had.

Gaby's eyes rose to watch the door, waiting for it to open, when the shower shut off. It was a few minutes before Illya emerged surprisingly only in his pyjama pants still clutching a towel and one of his supply bags. He looked grumpier than usual, tinted with more frustration than anger.

"I'm sorry for my undress." Illya said, ever observant of pleasantries even as he delivered them completely impassively. "I cannot reach wound on my back."

Gaby gasped in shock when Illya turned to show her what he was taking about. There was a long, wide and frighteningly purple bruise that ran diagonally across his entire back where he had taken the force of the beam that would have crushed her as the warehouse had crumbed around them. Across his shoulder blade though there was a large jagged cut in the skin, blood slowly seeping from the wound.

"Illya!" Gaby exclaimed, almost spilling it in her haste to jump out of bed. "You should have let the paramedics look at you!"

"It's fine." Illya dismissed. "There was just nail in beam."

"It's clearly not fine!" Gaby chided him but urged him to sit opposite her on his own bed. "Is that a first aid kit?"

"Da." He replied, handing her the supply bag.

"Honestly Illya, you aren't in a war zone or in stuck in the wilderness somewhere." Gaby grumbled, more to herself though she was pretty sure Illya was still listening. "You can actually accept medical treatment when it is offered."

She quickly began rifling through the kit, pulling out everything she needed and getting to work. Gaby also tried desperately to not become distracted by just how wide and muscular his bare shoulders were beneath her careful fingers. It was easier to push those thoughts aside though when her eyes caught the deep purple bruises; proof of how close they cut things tonight and how she would be dead if he hadn't put himself between her and danger yet again.

"Thank you." Gaby whispered softly as she placed the last piece of tape to secure the bandage to Illya's shoulder, softly resting her fingers there.

"S'okay." Illya replied though he didn't turn to look at her, mostly because it would have hurt immensely but also because he was afraid of how to deal with with emotions he would almost certainly find etched across her face.

Gaby set about packing away the first aid kit with slightly trembling hands. When she had zipped it up, she handed it back to Illya. As she did though, she noticed a bold black mark on his wrist, mercifully different from the deep coloured marks on his torso because of her.

"What's that?" Gaby said, reaching for his wrist and turning it over so she could get a better look.

"Is nothing." Illya said softly reclaiming his hand.

"Illya, please?" Gaby asked again, desperate to learn just one personal thing about her partner that she couldn't read in his file. He was always so on guard and while he was slowly letting go around her, he still let nothing about his life slip.

Slowly he raised his hand, offering it to her and Gaby reached out to turn his wrist again.

"What does it say?" Gaby asked, rubbing a tiny thumb over the black ink on the underside of his wrist. Her Russian lessons had barely made it beyond basic pleasantries and counting to ten so she had no idea.

"Hammer." Illya answered with a dark, resigned look.

"I… I don't understand." Gaby said, hoping he might explain.

Illya paused for a moment to breath deeply before he spoke.

"Hammer is blunt object. A brute weapon made only to hit things."

All of a sudden the meaning became very clear to her and Gaby's heart broke. Her chest constricted at the mere though of how little he had thought of himself when he had decided to indelibly brand himself as nothing more than an object of brute force.

"Illya." Gaby whispered, taking his enormous hand in both of her own and squeezing tightly as her heart broke for everything he had been through since his world was turned upside down as a little boy. Napoleon had only told her a handful of things but it was enough.

"You are not what they tried to forge you into." Gaby whispered, gazing at the top of Illya's blonde hair as he stared down at the black mark.

"I am the best spy in KGB." Illya sighed, still glaring at down at their joined hands. "I am exactly what they turned me into."

"No!" Gaby almost shouted with a force that surprised her. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Illya met her gaze with eyes so blue they almost took Gaby's breath away.

"You may be an amazing agent, a machine when you need to be, but that is not all you are. It isn't even most of what you are." Gaby urged, squeezing his hands tighter and willing him to believe her. "You are also a good man. You're brave, kind, fiercely loyal, protective, not to mention stubborn as hell."

The look on Illya's face when she told him he was a good man made her heart break as she suddenly became all too certain that no one had ever uttered those words to him.

"Without you, I would be dead." Gaby whispered, knowing it to be all too true. "I'm guessing I am not the only one that owes you their life."

"I have killed plenty more." Illya argued, barely more than a whisper.

"For a mission, for your country, but never for yourself." Gaby said and even though she did not know all the specifics she didn't need to; she knew Illya. "You are not a murderer Illya. Just a soldier forced to fight someone else's war his entire life."

Gaby watched as every possible emotion warred for dominance just below the surface. Eventually Illya's entire form slumped before her in relief, as though some of the incredible burden he had carried for as long as he could remember was being lifted. As she looked into his eyes in that moment she saw the scared child watching his father being dragged away, not the cold hard steel he insisted upon.

Before Gaby had time to second guess her actions she rose from her own bed to stand beside Illya's, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders to clutch him to her body. Even with him sitting, Illya's immense height meant that his head still rested on her shoulder. Gaby found her blinking away a tear when she felt Illya's firm hands clutching her sides like a lifeline. Though there was precisely nothing sexual about that moment, it was easily the most intimate moment she had ever shared. After what could have been seconds or hours, she felt his grip slowly starting to loosen.

"Time for sleep." Gaby announced as she reluctantly pulled away from Illya and returned to her bed, getting under the covers as Illya did the same in his own bed.

"You know…" Gaby mused absently once they were both tucked in. "I've always wanted to go to Paris."

Illya seemed amused by her thinking out loud. She might have even heard a soft chuckle.

"Goodnight, Illya." Gaby murmured, snuggling into her pillow as Illya reached up to the lamp switch.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite méchanicienne de garage clandestin." Illya replied with a small smile which, for the first time since Gaby had met him, seemed to reach his eyes.

* * *

So instead of doing my law assignment that is due tomorrow I wrote this. Told you it got angsty but it's okay! Illya unburdens and opens up for Gaby which makes it all better. Right?


End file.
